


Touching, Burning

by Filigranka



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Additional Treat, Family, Gen, ToT: Chocolate Box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8356975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: Indis tries.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Wavesinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/gifts).



> I love all your prompts (truly! I could probably copy-paste your letter as mine), but specially Indis-ones. I'd gladly write you a hundred ficlects to these prompts, but, alas, life disagreed with my plans. I hope you'll enjoy this little thing instead!
> 
> Beta-ed by my favourite Bazylia. ;)

‘You are burned.’

‘Such a brilliant observation, Indis.’

‘Curufinwë,’ sighed his father quietly. ‘Not near the children.’

Curufinwë narrowed his lips into a thin line and shot Indis an irritated glance. Of course, she _must_ have worried the father. She constantly plotted, trying to take his father’s love away from him, trying to make father punish him...

‘I can make a balm for you. My mother taught me a special recipe. It works like magic. In less than a week you willhave no scar at all.’

That witch. She just said so herself, didn’t she? A balm working like magic. It would probably be poisonous...

‘It’s a very kind offer, Indis. Say “thank you”, Curufinwë.’

Curufinwë gritted his teeth. A minute or so passed in silence. His younger siblings looked from him to Indis and their father, visibly uncomfortable. Sometimes Curufinwë pitied them. Sometimes he was angry that they dared make him feel pity.

‘Curufinwë.’ Father sounded mostly exhausted.

‘Finwe, it really is nothing...’ began Indis.

Playing benevolent now?, thought Curufinwë viciously. Like she could fool him.

‘ _Curufinwë_.’ Father’s voice became deeper, harder.

‘I will use the balm,’ he drawled.

His father looked into his eyes. Curufinwë didn’t blink. He loved his father, but the whole situation was his fault still. If he hadn’t brought Indis into their home...

‘Finwe, please. It’s all right. I am happy to help,’ she lowered her voice. ‘Please, dearest. Children are... uneasy.’

Finwe turned his eyes from Curufinwë and looked at her. And suddenly – he smiled. Brightly, with a glimpse of true happiness.

‘ _I_ thank you, Indis. For everything, my wife.’

Curufinwë drew a deep, controlled breath. Let her bask in the triumph for a while. Let her feel safe. She would regret it later. For he was Curufinwë Fëanáro and he always won.


End file.
